Domestic Life Really Suited You, Sherlock
by Black-Coffee-Two-Sugar-Please
Summary: Molly was angry, John was confused and Sherlock was...knitting? (Crack fill for a LJ prompt.)


Domestic Life Really Suited You, Sherlock

Author's note: This is simply a crack fill for a prompt though it's slightly different from what OP asked for. Nothing belongs to me.

Prompt: After another bout of boredom, John jokingly tells Sherlock to take up a hobby "...like knitting or something. Sherlock takes his advice and learns how to knit. And ends up knitting things that somehow end up being Molly's size/colours/style.

* * *

John swore that he meant it for a joke.

"Sherlock dear, let the knitting pins be part of you." Mrs Hudson frowned as she adjusted Sherlock's posture, "Not a weapon. Try not to hurt yourself or anyone around you, Sherlock. "

Sherlock sighed and threw the yarn away, "This is repetitive, tiresome, time-consuming…Oh! That's clever. Do that again, Mrs Hudson."

John was still not sure what had happened as he watched Sherlock and Mrs Hudson with mouth agape.

Sherlock had been, in his usual behavior, a pain in the ass. So John mocked that Sherlock either had an extended adolescent period or an earlier mid-life crisis.

"You know what? Why don't you take up a hobby, like gardening, beekeeping or knitting? Because that's what people usually do."

The next thing he knew, he was wrapped up in tangled fibers because a certain idiot thought that John was a perfect fixed point for winding yarn into a ball.

An hour later, rescued by kind and brilliant Mrs Hudson, John still had trouble processing what the hell just happened. He had always understood that Sherlock was a so-said-so-done type of guy but the whole thing was happening too quickly, too quickly to be good, if John was being honest with himself.

Eyeing the overly enthusiastic consulting detective, John stood up. This was probably a nightmare and he would wake up at any moment.

"John, you should try this. You can knit your sweater. "Sherlock gestured John to sit down.

Dear Lord. He needed some fresh air.

* * *

Humming as she dug out the body's liver, Molly was as happy and contented as always.

Why shouldn't she be? She woke up ten minutes late. However, the attendance machine broke and she was safe from her boss. The cafeteria got a new coffee machine and it was fantastic. Only two new bodies were sent in for autopsies so she probably had time to catch up with paperwork.

The world was full of love and peace.

And, oh, by the way, she slapped Sherlock yesterday.

In her defense, Sherlock totally deserved it. He knocked up on her door at three o'clock in the morning and demanded her to make cookies for him. She told him to pester John instead and he said,

"I don't see why you are unwilling, considering this is where your true potential lays."

With that magic sentence, she snapped.

"True potential? Does it occur to you that I'm a damn good pathologist and pathology might be my 'true potential'?"

For Christ's sake, she didn't need to take Sherlock's crap so early in the morning. She thought that after she helped him fake his death and bring down Moran, at least he would have the courtesy to control his nasty mouth. Instead, he became much more needy and moody.

On top of her head, she could think of fifteen ways of disposing a body without the police noticing. Besides, even if she did (That was a big "if".),She was sure Lestrade would pick up a shovel and dig a hole for her. So, no, she didn't feel bad about slapping Sherlock, considering she could do so much worse.

Sherlock left without a word. She didn't feel guilty.

Sherlock hadn't been in morgue for a whole day. She still had no remorse.

Sherlock didn't contact her and stopped sending texts, like "John got a dull date, again." or "Mrs Hudson took away my gun." as before. Nope, she didn't feel sorry for him, at all.

Okay. Okay. Maybe a tiny teeny bit.

* * *

John was surprised to see Sherlock was still knitting on the couch after coming back from Tesco. He saw a clothes-like fabric beside Sherlock.

"Men, that was quick." John picked up the fabric.

Sherlock looked irritated for being interrupted his important work.

"hmm…Sherlock?" John asked hesitantly, "Is any of your acquaintances a hobbit? This is so small. It can't be for you."

Sherlock rolled up his eyes. "Do grow up, John."

Molly didn't hear anything from Sherlock until three days after the incident. She pretended that she was not worried and didn't check for phone every five minutes.

When she came back from work, she saw Toby was trying to take off something from him.

"What is it?" Molly helped Toby get rid of the thing. She looked closely and realized that this was a sweater. Only a certain detective would think of making a cat sweater for a real cat.

_Cat doesn't like feeling trapped in human's clothes._

_-MH_

She immediately received a text back.

_Really? He seemed happy when I put it on him._

_-SH_

This didn't mean he was forgiven, yet.

Molly's lips pursed a little.

_Domestic life really suited you, Sherlock._

_-MH_

* * *

"If I knew you are a fan of pink, I would have given you a rainbow-coloured unicorn for Christmas, Sherlock." John teased as they walked in hallway, "Seriously, what is going on?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Nothing."

John wasn't going to let Sherlock go so easily but then they saw Molly carrying a pile of files.

"Hey, Molly." John waved to her.

"Morning, John." Molly smiled at him and then glanced at Sherlock, "Sherlock." Noticing that Sherlock was looking at him, her eyes strayed involuntarily.

John might not be as observant as Sherlock, but he was not blind. He saw clearly that there was a pink wool scarf on Molly's neck.

"I must be dashing off now. Talk later." Molly fled the scene as soon as possible. Sherlock didn't say anything. All he did was staring at Molly with intensive gaze as if Molly was a difficult maze. He directed his eyesight after Molly.

"So….Nothing, huh?" John tried his best to straighten his face and hide his smile.

* * *

Sherlock walked back and forth agitatedly outside Molly's office. For the first time, he was nervous about something which wasn't a case. He valued Molly, a lot and he didn't want Molly to be angry with him.

_I'm a person of habits and I don't want any change in my life._ This was how Sherlock explained his behavior to himself. Where could he find another good pathologist/baker?

He rubbed his face in frustration.

"You do know I could see you from my office, right?" Molly opened the door, "What is it?"

"As John has kindly pointed out, I should get you something nice and apologize for my behavior."

_For God's sake, Sherlock, just give Molly some flowers! Stop knitting a bra!_

As Sherlock recalled, those were the exact words before John kicked him out. He made it sound like knitting a bra was a morbid thing. Sherlock didn't understand. A wool bra could give extra support which was highly practical while flowers could only bloom for a day or two. However, considering John was, unfortunately, the more experienced in such area, Sherlock decided to take his advice. He brought the bra; just in case, John's strategy wouldn't work out.

"These are for you, Molly." Sherlock presented Molly the flowers which had been hidden behind his back.

"Sherlock…"

"They remind me of you when I see them." Sherlock ignored Molly's attempt to interrupt.

"Sherlock…"

"I'm sorry if I've upset you." Sherlock meant it. He wasn't an expert in the "people" thing but he had no intention of hurting Molly.

"Will you forgive me?" Sherlock hoped that Molly would say yes.

"Button chrysanthemums are for mothers, Sherlock."

Hmmmm….He hadn't expected that.

Plan B then?


End file.
